


all that’s best of dark and bright

by Marianne_Dashwood



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, F/M, Gen, POV Second Person, The Death Star, Unrequited Love, Unresolved Sexual Tension, this movie broke me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-17
Updated: 2016-12-17
Packaged: 2018-09-09 08:01:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8882893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marianne_Dashwood/pseuds/Marianne_Dashwood
Summary: She looks like starlight from the moment you meet her. You step out of the shadows to speak to her and that's where it all starts for you. She regards you with an incredibly disdainful look, and you think: that glare could topple empiresThen you see how her gaze skirts over from you, to the senator, to every other person in the room, how she is poised to run at every sudden movement, and you think; maybe one day(Or 'I went to see Rogue One and I had a lot of feelings')





	

**Author's Note:**

> Alternately titled 'Cassian stared adoringly at Jyn for the entire movie and Jyn never gave him a second glance'
> 
> So I went to see Rogue One, cried, came home and had a lot of emotions regarding Cassian Andor. 
> 
> Also I'm a sucker for unrequited love. And cheesy endings.
> 
> Title comes from 'She Walks In Beauty' by Lord Byron
> 
> Come chat to me at actualenjolras1832.tumblr.com

She looks like starlight from the moment you meet her. You step out of the shadows to speak to her and that's where it all starts for you.

 

She regards you with an incredibly disdainful look, and you think: _that glare could topple empires_

 

Then you see how her gaze skirts over from you, to the senator, to every other person in the room, how she is poised to run at every sudden movement, and you think; _maybe one day_

 

If you had known how quickly you would fall for her, maybe you would have kept your distance. It's bad enough you have been ordered to execute her father; you do not want her blood on your hands.

 

You never believed in soulmates, never thought they really, truly existed, and in all honesty, who would?

 

There is a war, a constant war. You have no time, and no patience for friendship, let alone _love_.

 

You don’t love her. Not yet. But you could.

 

You do trust her though, and right now that is what you need. It has to be enough.

 

It is enough.

 

You realise that you could love her when you watch her save the crying child, and maybe it's a dream, or a fantasy, or even the godforsaken Force, but there is a flash, a flash of a life they could live. It's a split second of weakness, but then they are getting shot at again and you are pushing it from your mind.

 

There is no time for dreams

 

Aren’t you fighting for a dream? Or for a cause that has painted your hands red?

 

Living. Fighting. Dying. Repeat. You’ve seen it a million times. Perhaps she will be the one who breaks the pattern.

 

The rebellion is coming to an end, you know it, one way or another, they can’t hold out much longer, and maybe, just maybe, they’ll survive this.

 

~~_They don’t_ ~~

 

You have long since resigned yourself to dying for the cause, for the rebellion, but she might be the one thing that you’ve found worth living for.

  


When you drag yourself back to consciousness on the grated floor, your first thought is of her.

 

Actually, your first thought is _we’re fucked_ but the first option is a lot more romantic.

 

Every step is agony, and you spare a thought to your allies on the beach, those who came with you, those could-have-been friends and would-have-been brothers.

 

How long has it been since you had a family? Something to live for that wasn’t impossibly out of reach? This ragtag group, strangers until a few hours ago, but Baze had called her ‘little sister’ and Bodhi had pressed his hands to yours for a second before you left and it makes your chest ache in a way that is not related to your three broken ribs.

 

Below you, Chirrut is mown down without your knowledge without any care to his thoughtful smile and sharp wit, Baze slaughtered taking petty revenge. What do their deaths mean? They wouldn’t have even been there if it wasn’t for you. Bodhi, brave, stupid, Bodhi. Bodhi the traitor, died fighting for a rebellion that hadn’t even accepted him yet. The five of you, pulled together by fate, murdered apart.

 

When you reach the top, blood beginning to seep into your shirt and by the Force that fucking _hurts_ , you shoot the general without a moment's hesitation, because he’s pointing his gun at her and she’s so defiant, so stubborn until the end, but this can’t be the end for her, it simply _can’t_.

 

There is so much more she has to do.

 

She’s so beautiful, and you hold her to you, revelling in the fact she’s alive, and even managing to have enough strength to hold her back from desecrating the corpse. Not that you would have minded, but you are bleeding out on her, and you might actually have a chance to escape this hell.

 

That hope is dashed the second you limp out of the elevator with her supporting you, and you see the explosion. It’s all too familiar, only this time, K is broken and smoking in the building behind you and there are no rescue ships in sight.

 

You both collapse on the the beach, sand sinking beneath you. Soon, all that will be left of you will be sand, and even that will be gone.

 

Maybe it wouldn’t have been like this. As she takes your hand, you are reminded of all the could-haves and would-haves and of your split second vision back in the market place.

 

This is what you’ll never know: where she has been, what really landed her in that labour camp, her favorite drink or her favorite colour. Whether sending those plans actually brings about any change, actually destroys the Empire.

 

This is what you do know: you will die with your hand in hers, that she was brave, and she was strong, and the galaxy was brighter for all the days she lived in it.

 

This is what you could have known: that the Jedi were not dead, that they succeeded and that the Death Star was destroyed. That they would settle down on a small planet after decades of running about the galaxy together. That Chirrut and Baze would come for dinner and Baze would ruffle her hair and call her ‘little sister’ and Chirrut would show off his skills to your children. A little girl maybe, one who begs Bodhi to help her learn how to fly, a little girl with her hair and face, and your personality; your own ray of starlight.

 

“Your father would have been proud.” You tell her and she smiles a little, and all at once you are so happy that you came on this mission, that you are kneeling on this beach facing your death, because you are with her, and when she smiles it’s like you are flying amongst the stars.

 

You pull each other close as the wind begins to scorch and blister your skin, boiling hot water beginning to rain down upon you both.

 

Your face fits perfectly into the curve of her shoulder, your thumb rubbing small circles into her back, her hand on the nape of your neck.

 

You could have done so much more. She would have done so much more.

 

Could have, should have, would have. Will never have.

 

A never ending twilight approaches. Obliteration awaits.

 

 _No_ , you think, as the blinding white engulfs you, and you feel yourself begin to burn.

 

It’s not twilight.

 

It’s a new dawn.

 

A new hope.

  



End file.
